Page 26 of Tangled Souls (Bratva Souls Duet #2)

KIRILL

When I walk into the basement room to find both of our guests—and yes, I’m using the term very loosely—waiting for me, I can’t help but grin. It’s not a nice smile and Adam, who starts wiggling in his chair, knows it. Mikhail doesn’t seem bothered.

Not yet at least.

I clap my hands together, the sound reverberating around the room as the guys file in behind me and pick spots where they can see the action. As they settle in, I don’t look away from Mikhail. He’s not rattled by it, though.

Which is just fine by me.

Those who believe they are unbreakable shatter in the most satisfying way.

My eyes drift over to Adam. The last time I visited him he had started to believe his cousin would come for him and liberate him from my clutches. I knew the truth. It was never going to happen, but desperation can lead to delusion.

“How has it been trying to run your organization without Adam as your right-hand man, Mikhail?” I don’t take my eyes off Adam as I ask the question.

Always so fucking full of himself, Mikhail laughs. He actually throws his head back and sounds like a movie villain who thinks he’s immortal. But this isn’t a movie. And Mikhail is just a man.

A man covered in blood with a weeping wound and a reckoning coming.

“My right-hand man?” Mikhail gasps the question incredulously, the amusement clear in his voice. “He’s nothing to me. Expendable,” he spits the word.

Adam pales and I can’t help but smirk. Triumph rushes through my veins as I prowl closer to our guests.

“I told you,” I murmur the words to Adam.

His head drops to his chest as if the weight of the world is bearing down on him.

Maybe it is. “I know,” he whispers. When he looks back up at me his words are broken, “I’ve already told you everything I know.

He was never worth my loyalty; I realize it now.

I thought because he’s family that it would be different.

I’m sorry for the role I played in his game. ”

I nod and pull my gun. The sound of the shot is jarring, but I don’t look away as the bullet embeds itself in the middle of his forehead. His body goes limp, the ground behind him painted with the last second of his life.

It will find its way down the drain. Just like every other life that has been taken here.

When I look over at Mikhail, he has a look of glee on his face. I wasn’t expecting anything else, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a shame. He became twisted up into something unrecognizable a long time ago.

Even if I hadn’t killed his father, he would have ended up as this man. It might not have been my basement he ended up in, but it would have been another. I have no doubt about it.

I’m glad that I stood between him and this city before he could hold real power in his hands. I might not be a good man, but I’m better than the monster in front of me.

“Thank you,” Mikhail’s tone is conversational, “you just did me a big favor.”

I make a humming sound as I tuck my gun away and pull out a knife. Part of me wishes it was Oaklynn’s knife, there would have been a certain poetry to it, but it is what it is right now.

“You have been a thorn in my side for far too long, Mikhail,” my voice is cold and detached. “You’re bad for business, a loose cannon that can’t be trusted.” I smirk at him and add, “Even your father thought so.”

Anger flashes across his features and he shouts, “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“Oh?” I tilt my head to the side as I study him.

“I do.” I nod toward Huck and let Mikhail know, “Huck was able to get into Anatoly’s emails after I killed him.

He was making plans and doing deals behind your back.

He knew you were unstable and would destroy the empire he was building.

He was making moves to take you out. His own blood,” my tone is filled with fake sympathy.

“No,” Mikhail roars and starts to thrash against his restraints.

Too bad he won’t get free. Killing a man who has no hope of fighting back isn’t as much fun. But, in this case, it’s necessary.

“Yes,” I state, my face and tone neutral.

“You’re a fucking liar, Volkov,” he spits.

I challenge him, “Am I?” I shrug and take a step closer to him.

“It doesn’t matter to me whether you believe me or not.

I know the truth.” I look into his eyes so he can see that I’m not telling him lies.

He doesn’t relax though, and he doesn’t admit defeat; I wasn’t really expecting him to.

“Now, you’re going to tell me about your suppliers, your dealers, and any other deals you can tell me about. ”

Mikhail starts to laugh again, the sound unhinged and creepy as fuck. I don’t acknowledge his little breakdown and step closer.

When I slice up his arm, he doesn’t scream. He doesn’t even flinch. He just keeps laughing.

“Fucking psycho,” Maxim huffs from somewhere behind me.

I don’t ask another question. Not yet.

Every slice I give his body is long and smooth. The blood covering him multiplies, none of the new blood coming from the bullet wound. He’s littered with cuts, but I don’t stop.

I can’t.

He wanted my head which would be bad enough, but then he wanted Oaklynn’s. That is what I can’t accept. Ever.

When I finally step away, his chest is heaving, and his eyes are filled with pain. He tries to mask it, but it’s too much for him to control at this point. Too much of his skin is covered in cuts.

Maxim steps up next to me, a blowtorch in his hands and an evil glint in his eyes.

I still don’t ask a question. My last demand still hangs in the air along with the stench of his blood and his flagging determination. He’ll break.

They all do.

Somewhere underneath his rage and his need for retribution is his humanity.

It might be small, but it is there. Even the darkest of us have an ember of it.

No one has looked for Mikhail’s spark for a long time, no one cared to find it.

I don’t either, not really, but I’m more than willing to take advantage of it.

Maxim starts with Mikhail’s feet and the moment he touches the flame to his skin, the smell of burning flesh starts to compete with the copper of his blood. It’s a heady combination, a harbinger of death.

But this death will not be visiting soon.

For the first time, he cracks. His screams make me smile as I stand back and allow Mikhail to exorcise some of his own demons. He’s been beating himself up since the night of the gala.

I understand why, but he needs to let it go. That guilt cannot continue to live with us. It will taint our future and our family.

Oaklynn could be pregnant right now. We won’t know for a little while, but it’s possible.

The hope for our future must be stronger than the guilt and regret. There is no other way and nothing less is acceptable.

When Mikhail’s scream cut off, the blowtorch on his thighs now, it’s only because the man passes out. Maxim chuckles under his breath as he steps back.

Baker is there to toss a bucket of salt water on Mikhail who comes too and begins screaming again. Good.

Mikhail looks around the room as if an angel of mercy will appear. We know there is no such thing, but it doesn’t stop the man from looking. Maybe what he’s really looking for is the reaper to drag him to hell.

Not yet.

“You won’t find freedom within death quite yet,” my voice holds a promise which has his gaze snapping over to meet mine.

This time it’s Huck who steps forward with pliers in his hands. He doesn’t say a word because my demand hasn’t been met.

But it will be.

Huck is efficient as he peels off Mikhail’s nails without flinching. Mikhail lets little whimpers leave his mouth, but he clearly resents each one of them.

“There’s no shame in giving into the pain. The shame is in the man you became,” I tell him, my lip curled into a snarl.

“Fuck,” Mikhail pants with his eyes squeezed closed.

Huck isn’t done. Far from it. Once all of Mikhail’s nails are removed, he grabs a small bowl. Glee has me stepping closer. The moment Huck brings the bowl up and the liquid inside touches Mikhail’s fingers, he starts jerking to try and pull them free.

It won’t happen.

And I know the salt water in the bowl is burning, burrowing, and battering against his senses. There’s no escape for him.

Huck uses the bowl to submerge the fingertips of one hand and then the other. On the third round of alternating between hands, Mikhail breaks.

Then the words start to tumble freely.

His tongue stumbles and stutters.

Everything is left on the floor of the basement where the shadows hide their horrors, and blood can be washed away.

He tells us the name of everyone he’s recruited, who he bought drugs from, and who he sold to.

He tells me about the feelers he had out there for the trafficking operation to start again.

He doesn’t stop until the truth is laid out and he has nothing left to give.

Hendrix, Wolfe, and Dominic will be tasked with ensuring every name uttered and contract brokered will be snuffed out. I know they’ll do their job and do it well.

I look upon Mikhail because even with my demand met, his pain won’t end.

Baker steps forward, a different knife in his hand. He slices alongside mine, parallel and crossing, not missing a single cut I gave the man and matching it with his own existence.

“Fuck,” Mikhail rasps after needing to be woken up. Again. “Just end me. I’ve told you everything.” His eyes come up and find mine, his world broken alongside his mind and his entitlement. “Please.”

When I pull my gun free this time, I don’t fire just one shot.

I take out his kneecaps. I fire into his gut.

He’s gasping for breath, his skin becoming pale as the blood starts to drain from him with every sluggish beat of his heart.

With our eyes locked, I fire one more shot to match the one I gave his cousin.

Death was not slow for him. It was never meant to be.

Mikhail terrorized and plotted. He tried to wreak havoc on my city.

Now his blood is on my hands, but his is just another life taken. It’s far from the first and I doubt it will be the last.

But at least, for now, I can close the chapter on Morozov completely. Anatoly is gone. Mikhail is gone. Their power was corrupted and overthrown.

The time has come to live our life with our tangled souls united, and love wrapped around us while enjoying a future which plays between the shadows and within the light.